


Old and New

by nightwalker365



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! - All Media Types, Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Cults, M/M, PTSD, Pro-dueling, Trauma, YGOPridecember2020, Yu-Gi-Oh! Pridecember, discovering of sexuality, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:20:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27817435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightwalker365/pseuds/nightwalker365
Summary: And there it was, the arena. The one place that Yami belonged in this crazy world. That narrow, raised platform where he would duel whoever stepped in front of him. This was all he had left.Prompts: Coffee, Shower, TV, Hot Cocoa, Scarf, Plant, Standing in line, Visual kei,
Relationships: Atem/Kaiba Seto, Kaiba Seto/Yami Yuugi
Comments: 20
Kudos: 21
Collections: nightwalker365’s Pridecember fics





	1. Taste

**Author's Note:**

> Ficlets from Pridecember prompts. All interconnected. Would love to know if you want to read more. 
> 
> Reviews and kudos are always welcome.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite all of the years he must have been drinking coffee, Yami had shit taste in it.

  1. Coffee 



Despite all of the years he must have been drinking coffee, Yami had shit taste in it. Kaiba watched Yami sigh, stupidly satisfied with cheap McDonald’s coffee and he could believe how disappointing it was that Yami had terrible taste in coffee. 

Yami was excellent—beyond every one of Kaiba’s expectations. He was, possibly, the greatest duelist Kaiba had ever met—barring himself of course, it was only a matter of time before Kaiba defeated him. The main drawback of his job as a CEO was he couldn’t participate in all of the dueling competitions, some because of the rules of the tournaments—sponsors couldn’t participate—others because of a complete lack of time. 

Yami was an unexpected gift. He was an excellent duelist, who didn’t complain about the work. He didn’t mind flying from tournament to tournament, blinking almost sleepily through different times zones. He also apparently didn’t mind cheap as shit coffee. 

This was the first complaint Kaiba could genuinely level at him. 

Yami wasn’t particular about anything. He seemed to enjoy fast food. He didn’t complain if he didn’t have enough time to sleep before a tournament. He didn’t ask for extra days off. Kaiba would almost guess he was the type who had lived in poverty, but the man had no sense of money, nor the value of his own time and skills. 

It was like a rich man, satisfied with poor men’s goods. Something about it tucked a buzzing feeling under his shoulder blade and forced Kaiba’s teeth to clench. 

A private jet took the two of them to Hong Kong. There were a few “geniuses” who had publicly challenged Yami—and as a result Kaiba Corporation—on social media. While the flight from Hong Kong to Domino was not a long one, the two of them were coming from California where Kaibaland’s new opening had demanded a tournament of the greatest duelists—well, most of them since Kaiba himself couldn’t participate. 

On arrival Yami requested coffee. Unlike the times he had been traveling with Mokuba or Isono, _Kaiba_ would make sure that Yami had a piping hot cup of _good,_ handcrafted coffee in his still sleep clumsy hands. 

He had spent most of his time on the company jet, sleeping. There were dark smudges under his eyes that Kaiba knew would be covered once he went away to put on his makeup. 

He watched the rare moment that Yami, unfocused and unprepared took a sip of what must have been his first good cup of coffee. Kaiba watched the way his eyes widened, how his shoulder and mouth dropped from the shock. 

Then he went back in for another sip. 

Kaiba smirked. It always felt good when he was proven right. 

  
  



	2. Old and New — Showers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was sloppy and clumsy and sometimes just bad at this “modern life” thing. More that once he ached for the comforts of home. For the coffee in warm ceramic instead of paper cups, for long soaks in hot water, for early prayers and the relighting of torches to signal a new day.

  1. Shower 



For Yami there were a lot of things to get used to. Leaving Egypt had changed his life, absolutely and utterly. 

More than leaving Egypt, Seto Kaiba had changed the way he lived. He challenged Yami to the ways of “modern day life,” more than Yugi ever had. There were a thousand things Yami would learn about—new games, the “mo—bile” phone, _card sleeves—_ which were ingenious—padded boxes to hold extra cards and alternative decks, toilets—but the worst, the worst _by far,_ were showers. 

Kaiba insisted on them, said they were cleaner and quicker than baths. And Yami did not disagree. But they were so intensely strange Yami had a difficult time getting used to them. 

Back at the Palace, he had always received baths. His wives would decide who would have the honor. They used buckets and oils for his hair, scrubbed places he could not reach, and after he suffered their attentions he would be rewarded with a long soak. 

Showers were all tiny, long spaces and water _in his hair._ It was like a terrible game, where Yami spent too much of his time dodging the water and losing _time_ because he was inadequately prepared to suffer through the shower. 

Kaiba seemed the most comfortable when he was taking showers on his flying plane—“jet” he called it—but for Yami this was the most miserable place to shower. For one, the shower was long and tall, but not all that wide. In Yami’s attempts to weave around the stream of water, a rather strong one, he often crashed his head into the wall or the door. Sometimes hard enough to push open the door and get water and soap all over the floor. 

He was sloppy and clumsy and sometimes just _bad_ at this “modern life” thing. More that once he ached for the comforts of home. For the coffee in warm ceramic instead of paper cups, for long soaks in hot water, for early prayers and the relighting of torches to signal a new day. 

But he could never return to that part of his life. Se— _he_ had made it clear his presence was destroying everything. That his absence would save them. And he had been right. They would not look for him. They probably set up a shrine, and honor him as a dead man. There was no place for them in this godless, kingless, “modern day” where Yami was just barely surviving. 

So Yami suffered through showers. He hoped his absence was doing all the good they had hoped. That it would at least help them. 


	3. Inside and Outside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yami would play his part, if Kaiba played his. 

  1. TV 



There were a series of moments in the rush of events and duels and games and competitions that Yami had a single clear thought,  _ tell him.  _

It wasn’t as if the lies he told about his past were all that believable. Yugi had prepared him as much as possible, but Kaiba was sharp. And there were too many things he didn’t know. It doesn’t matter that he knew his past is a lie, as long as he didn’t look into it. Yami would play his part, if Kaiba played his. 

This moment he realized this would never happen was when Kaiba told him he would be staying at the Kaiba Manor since he didn’t have a safe place in Domino to stay. According to him, Kame Game Shop lacked too much security. Yami also knew it would be stupid to put Yugi’s Granpa’s life in danger, no matter how much he would have enjoyed the excitement. 

Yami saw the shock in Isono’s normally reserved face. Yami had never  _ stayed _ anywhere outside of the Palace and the Game Shop. Kaiba’s home, Yami was certain, would be different. It was Kaiba’s and Mokuba’s space. Based on Isono’s reaction, it was not common for people to come to Kaiba’s home. 

Yami did not understand why when he saw the Manor. He had never been to a Manor before. It was not taller than the hotels they had stayed in, but it was in the middle of so, so much space. The Manor wasn’t wedged between titans. Instead it was the King of its own field—no competition, only dominance. As if Kaiba was a man to seek perfect rule of his own fish bowl, rather than a man who pursued competition like an animal starving. 

The inside made even less sense than the outside. Kaiba saw the look on his face, and said it was a “Western style” house. It meant all his furniture was weirdly tall. 

There was a huge staircase that branched off into two sides. On the wall where they split off was a huge frame of—

“Kaibaland?” Yami stared at it, not quite touching it. It looked so real. The person who painted this must have been—

“Yes.” Kaiba’s hands were stuffed in his pockets. “It’s the one in Domino. Have you gone?” 

“No,” Yami said. “I never have.” 

Kaiba eyed his expression. “It doesn’t look that different from the one in America.” 

“No, it’s—“ He started again. “It looks so  _ real.”  _

“It’s a very high-quality photograph.” 

“Photograph,” Yami said breathlessly. “It’s beautiful.” 

“You,” he said strangely, inviting Yami’s attention. “Are fascinated by the strangest things.” 

Worry stirred in Yami’s stomach. “Am I?” 

Kaiba snorted softly. “Let me show you where you’ll sleep.” 

The room was larger than any of the hotel rooms they had stayed in. There were big windows covered by curtains. A smile climbed up onto his face without his permission. 

He didn’t notice Kaiba watching, smiling. 

And then he saw the dresser. Mostly, the thing  _ on  _ the dresser. 

It was the weird black picture. The one that reminded him of the most holy rooms in the Palace. The one that reminded him of speaking to the god. He hated that black picture. And it was in  _ every  _ hotel room. At first, he had reasoned it was a method of communing with the gods without a temple. It was a reminder of that which was holy. But Seto Kaiba—most of the people he met—did not believe in gods. Seto Kaiba found faith in them offensive. He believed that man made his own destiny. That fate was bullshit handed down by those who sought to bind. Yami was sure that he would not have the black picture in his own home. 

“Why,” Kaiba said, pushing through his thoughts. “Do you hate the TV?”

The—the  _ TV?  _ Yami did not,  _ could not  _ hide the surprise from his face. 

Kaiba’s eyes narrowed. “You  _ do  _ know what a TV is.”

“No,” he kept going. “You’ve seen them in tournaments—but they’ve always been  _ on  _ haven’t they? You’ve never seen them off.” 

Yami stood very, very still while realization dawned on Kaiba’s face. The worry in his stomach moved up to his chest. 

“You’re Egyptian.” Yami flinched. He did not break eye contact. “But there are no records of you in any system. Not even the hospitals.” 

Kaiba’s blue,  _ blue  _ eyes drilled into him pushing for the truth. 

“It could have been lost. Or someone could have erased your records, but that doesn’t explain your complete lack of knowledge of modern day life.” 

Kaiba adjusted his stance, stood straighter, firmer, stronger. 

“You were in some kind of  _ cult.”  _

Yami didn’t know what those words meant, but they landed like an accusation. His eyes narrowed. 

“What exactly are you saying, Kaiba?” 

“A cult. A—“ He stopped. “Are you Muslim?”

“Muslim?”

“No. Nevermind. Do you live with your family?” 

“They are dead, Kaiba—“

“Were you stuck with a group of people who all believe the same shit you did?” 

Yami froze. A perfect image of Mahad’s face, Mana’s face,  _ Set’s face  _ snapped his spine into something rigid and immovable. 

“A cult.” Kaiba nodded as though he had solved the mystery. 

After breakfast the next day the accursed TV was removed from his room and in its place were pamphlets about cults. 

Yami was more than a little baffled. 

Then he started to read. 


	4. Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His voice dropped to a whisper. “You should look too much into this.” 
> 
> Something dropped from Yami’s chest. As if falling from a great height. It was different, hearing Yugi say it. It changed from an accusation, to something true decaying into something else. Rotten is it’s own kind of transformation. 

  1. Hot Cocoa 



Yami read all of the pamphlets Kaiba left him about cults and felt sick to his stomach. Admittedly his Japanese wasn’t perfect. He did end up messaging Yugi with some pictures and got a terrified phone call. 

“What—what—what—“

“Yugi _breathe.”_

There’s a thump, a whisper of paper, maybe cloth. Yami hated that he couldn’t see Yugi in that moment. Yugi’s fast breaths start slowing steadily. 

“Why are you reading about _cults?”_

He still sounded panicked but was contained. 

“I’m learning about them.” 

“At— _Yami,”_ Yugi corrected himself. “You shouldn’t—“

His voice dropped to a whisper. “You should look too much into this.” 

Something dropped from Yami’s chest. As if falling from a great height. It was different, hearing Yugi say it. It changed from an accusation, to something true decaying into something else. Rotten is it’s own kind of transformation. 

He didn’t say anything. He kept his face from making any expression. He kept his knees straight, locked them so he couldn’t fall. He would not fall. 

“Y-Yami?” 

Yugi’s voice quite shake him. It was a short breath of air while drowning. Less a relief, and more a reminder. 

“I-I know what you’re thinking.” Atem stayed quiet. He listened. It was always important for a King to listen before passing judgement. “It’s not—your situation is not that easy.” 

He stayed quiet. Yugi kept going. 

“I don’t know why you’re reading about _cults_ but we—my Grandpa and I—we think that drawing attention to what you’ve—where you’re from. It could be really bad for—for them.” 

Atem left the silence until it started to ring. 

Quiet, he knew from experience, made people think. It made them squirm. It made them careless, clumsy with the desire to end it. 

There is a part of his brain working intensely to remind him, this was _Yugi,_ the same _Yugi_ who helped him build and find this life. The same Yugi that pulled him from darkness and into fluorescent light. Blinding, in its own cold, untouchable way. 

“Kaiba already knows.”

Then he hung up the phone. Yugi did not call him back. They did not say anything more to each other.

—

He took a break. He had to relearn to settle back into his skin. It took less time, each time he did it. The thought that it might become easier than switching back was less comforting than it should be. 

When he managed to find the kitchenette he came across Mokuba Kaiba. His long, messy hair dangled back and forth while he climbed up on the counter. He had to stop and blink several times until he realized Mokuba was rooting around in a cabinet. He caught sight of Yami out of the corner of his eye and almost fell off. 

“Hoohly—“

Yami took a step forward to help, but Mokuba caught himself. 

“Wh— _Don’t_ surprise me like that!” 

“Why are you climbing things?”

Mokuba pointed. “Can _you_ reach that cabinet?” 

Yami looked at the cabinet and then at all the space between that cabinet and the ground. 

“Perhaps you have a point,” he acknowledged. “Why has Kaiba made a home that is too tall for you?” 

Mokuba crossed his arms. “It’s not too tall. I’m growing into it! Anyway he didn’t _make_ this—“

Then he stopped. Yami blinked. “He didn’t _make_ the home he lives in?” 

The incredulous silence sat between them for a moment. 

“ _Kaiba?”_

Mokuba bit his lip and looked away. “This place. It was Gozaburo’s.” 

“Gozaburo?”

“You don’t even know—“ Mokuba stopped. Remembering something. _Cults,_ Yami’s mind whispered traitorously. “Gozaburo is—Gozaburo _was_ our adopted… sort of _father_ I guess.”

He spat the word, the same way Set did—the way a man who didn’t like, or respect, or perhaps even want their father might. 

“And Kaiba doesn’t want to change it?” 

Mokuba looked at him. “I mean he _did._ There’s a game room, no way that guy would’ve had—and the trophy room is gone so…”

“Then _why,”_ Yami said. “Did he make everything so out of reach?” 

Mokuba pursed his lips to hold back a laugh. “Probably because in a couple of years I’ll start to grow and we’ll probably be around the same height.” 

Yami crossed his arms. “The world is not made of people with giraffe legs.” 

Mokuba laughed. “We don’t really have guests. And _you,”_ he said, as if Yami was not a guest. “You’re even more unexpected.” 

Yami opened his mouth to ask what he was talking about when Mokuba held up the tin he pulled out of the cabinet. 

“Want some hot cocoa?” 

“Some what?” 

“Oh, now you _have to—“_ Yami was starting to hate it when people said that. As if there weren’t enough things he was trying to learn about. 

Kaiba found them, not even an hour later, in the game room. He had his own cup of this hot cocoa. Yami was told this was a secret. Apparently it was a “children’s drink.” 

Yami did not understand this idea of a “child’s drink.” But, apparently delicious things were only for children. 

Kaiba didn’t say anything about cults or Egypt. Yami just enjoyed his hot cocoa and the sight of the two of them, arguing over which game Yami needed to try first. 

Apparently there were some games he could just play for fun. At least here. At least for now. 


	5. Bespoke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kaiba squinted at him. “What are you doing?” 
> 
> There was a little jerk. “Watching the TV.” 
> 
> “No,” Kaiba scoffed. “I mean what,” he gestured to Yami’s blanket enclosed form, “are you doing?”
> 
> “Oh,” there’s a long silence. “It’s cold.”

Scarf

Kaiba should have expected this. Yami wouldn’t confirm it, but he _was_ from Egypt. Egypt was not known for its cold temperatures. 

Yami said nothing about the cold. He never complained. Instead he wrapped himself up in blankets and sat as close to the heater as possible without physically burning himself. He spent most of the day watching television and mouthing new Japanese words under his breath. Kaiba had taken longer to notice since he had been avoiding Mokuba so he could work in peace. Mokuba kept trying to get him to treat Christmas as an actual holiday. At best it was only the previous Emperor’s birthday. It ended up mostly being an excuse for couples to frivolously indulge themselves. Why Mokuba kept trying to get him to _do_ something for Christmas, Kaiba does not understand.

So the two of them end up playing a terrible game of hide and seek wherein Kaiba pretended he was willing to go along with Mokuba’s schemes before escaping to find a quiet place to work. 

It was during one of those moments Kaiba was looking for a quiet, unassuming place to work that he found Yami bundled up by the heater. 

“Finds” was perhaps the wrong word, “stumbles upon” was more accurate. 

Yami had wrapped himself up so tightly even his _hair_ was covered. It wasn’t until Kaiba noticed his _eyes_ watching him from a small slit in the blanket that Kaiba almost dropped his tablet.

“What the— _Yami?”_

“Hi,” he said a little muffled. 

Kaiba squinted at him. “What are you doing?” 

There was a little jerk. “Watching the TV.” 

“No,” Kaiba scoffed. “I mean what,” he gestured to Yami’s blanket enclosed form, “are you _doing?”_

“Oh,” there’s a long silence. “It’s cold.” 

It was then Kaiba noticed his dangerous proximity to the heat. Yami’s ridiculous life came back to Kaiba. _Of course._

Immediately he was on his phone. It took no more than a handful of texts to confirm the appointment. When Kaiba looked up at the little pile of blankets that was the greatest duelist in the world he made… a decision. 

Perhaps an impulsive one. 

Instead of asking—it would inevitably lead to an argument, or worse, _the silent treatment—_ Kaiba physically picked up the bundle of blankets allowing the natural muffling properties to do their job for him. Once he was secured tightly to his chest, Kaiba yelled at Isono to pull the car around in the communicator. 

The bundle struggled and yelled in protest. Kaiba ignored him and held tight. 

Isono was, fortunately, quick about the car, so it took less time than Kaiba expected. Before Yami could struggle his way out of the blanket prison he had created, he was locked safely in the town car. 

Then Kaiba was left to fend for himself. 

“ _KAIBA?”_ His furious face burst forth from the mound of blankets. “What in _all the gods’ names are you—“_

“Winter wear.” 

He stopped. Blinked. “What?” 

“We’re going shopping.” 

—

Kaiba did not take Yami to a mall or a department store. He took him to a shiny shop wihta fancy sign, Yami didn’t have time to read before he was pulled inside. 

The place looked larger from the inside. Instead of racks and racks of clothes, there was a few neatly hung clothes with a large space full of mirrors and sofas. 

Kaiba walked in and immediately was addressed by an attendant. The two of them went to the back, where there was even more space. Kaiba stayed where the seating room was while Yami was lead into a dressing room. 

Rather than choosing new things, there were several attendants talking quickly to each other, holding Yami’s arms up and measuring his legs. Yami has been manhandled like this beofre, so he is not caught by surprise. Despite what Kaiba might have intended. 

They don’t speak to him, which perhaps made the whole experience even more unnerving. 

When they do show Yami to a dressing room they gave him a _stack_ of things and told him to come out so they could check the fit for everything. 

Then there were pins and more than one sigh at the length of his legs. Why Kaiba felt the need to put him through this Yami did not know. If Kaiba wanted to torture him all he had to do was leave him outside. Kaiba was a strangely unpredicable person at times, which made him an exciting duelist and a difficult person. 

Yami probably should feel more put upon than he did, but there was something about Kaiba’s impulsive, aggression and the surety of his actions that made Yami feel at home. 

It wasn’t until they brought out the scarves that Yami understood what Kaiba’s true motive was. 

The scarves were all ridiculously soft. The attendants brought out many colors Yami liked. There was a perfect gold, just like what he used to—and there was a black that would offset some of his brighter colors. Even a red, close to the color of blood, that Yami was partial to. 

What gave Kaiba away was the blue. It was not one of his usual colors. Yami was surprised at first that it was included until he saw the name, Blue Eyes Blue. 

When he put it one Yami understood why. It wasn’t immediately apparent, but when he turned to see how it looked from the side Yami heard a small choked sound from behind him. 

Ah, perhaps there was at least _one_ good reason to wear this color. Even if it wasn’t something he would have chosen for himself. 

—

Yami was given one scarf to wear for the ride home. Kaiba watched quietly as he chose the Blue Eyes scarf, a special color that only a few places got exactly right. 

Despite not owning his own, Yami was apparently decent with various different scarf knots. Kaiba watched him go through several of them before deciding on a Four in Hand. 

The blanket was still in the car, so Kaiba had Isono bring it around to the front again. 

While they waited, Kaiba let his eyes look over Yami in that color. He had only added it to the stack after the attendant asked about it. Despite himself, he had never imagined what Yami might look like in his favorite colors. It should not have been so—

“Do you like me wearing your colors that much?” 

Kaiba scoffed. As usual, Yami was perceptive. Too perceptive. 

Kaiba jerked his head away and refused to blush. He _refused._

“I did not say that.” 

“Your eyes certainly spoke for you.” 

“Shut up.” 

They sat in silence for a long moment before—

“Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome.”

“But the next time you want me to wear your favorite color we can just go to the department store.” 

Kaiba snorted, crossed his arms, and promised nothing.


	6. Pace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The crowd cheered. Yami smirked. Kaiba, perhaps more than any other duelist he knew, could put on a show when he duelled. Kaiba’s duels were always worth watching. 
> 
> It was unfortunate the duel was only three turns before Kaiba utterly destroyed him. Yami tried not to think about the itch in his fingers when he saw Kaiba’s combos. His deck was not the same one he used to duel Yami, he could tell that Kaiba had thought through more and more of it. 
> 
> Gods, Yami wanted to duel him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very late continuation from before. Let me know if you like it!

Plant 

There were brief lulls between tournaments that proved the true test of Yami’s willingness to become a “modern man.” 

Yami had decided upon his favorite place in the house. It was the smaller TV room. While it still took him a moment to get used to turning on the TV, the smaller TV room felt like the sort of room that Yuugi might have lived in. Unlike the rest of the house, this room was more of a Japanese style.

After Kaiba stole him away to go “shopping,” a kotatsu had been installed in the room. Yami found he could comfortably spend hours there. Sometimes rearranging his decks. Sometimes watching older tournaments. His favorites were Yuugi’s or Kaiba’s duels, though Kaiba tended to finish his duels quickly. 

It was both frustrating and a bit of a relief to watch other duels. Yami would admit to being jealous of the duelists who could compete right now. The regional tournaments were in full swing, and while Yami couldn’t participate, according to Kaiba he was over qualified and couldn’t compete in regional or even _prefectural_ tournaments. 

Yami was shocked into enraged silence when he flipped on the TV and saw _Kaiba_ destroying another duelist in the Domino Regional Tournament. 

The only thing that would have made it worse, would have been if he was dueling _Yuugi._

When Yami turned to look at Mokuba and Isono, betrayal was written all over their faces. 

He stood, and abruptly had to bite back a shiver at the cold. 

“We are going,” he said. “After I change.”

“Wait, Yami! We can’t—“

Yami gave Mokuba a hard look. “Would you even be here if I wasn’t?”

“Well…” Mokuba looked down at his feet. “No, but—“ 

“Then we are going.” 

“He’s going to be mad—“ 

“ _I am mad!”_ Yami’s voice rung out. Mokuba and Isono flinched. 

When they didn’t say anything in response, Yami left to change. 

The Domino Regional Tournament was held in the Kaiba Dome at Kaibaland. Kaibaland was one of the most popular places to hold a tournament in the Kanto Region. It only made sense that it was held here. 

As the official duelist of Kaiba Corporation, Yami had exclusive rights to come and go from Kaibaland as he pleased. He hardly had to do more than nod at the attendant before he was escorted inside. 

The Kaiba Dome was the sort of place that Yami only goes to as a competitor. He had never walked in without intending to duel someone. Walking in to _watch_ a duel was a new experience. 

It was like the audience had been expecting him, once they saw him they all moved to the side.

By the time they had arrived at the arena, Kaiba’s duel was long over. Yami watched for a moment, the two duelists in the ring, as they began to summon their monsters. It was only the beginning of the duel, and while it would be hard to tell what kind of duelists they were, Yami had the feeling they would be a good match for each other. 

He only had a moment, before Mokuba’s hand caught his elbow and he pulled him up to a boxed off seating area. 

“It’s safer up here.” 

Yami nodded and thanked him.

Only three turns between the duelists past before people started to stare. It wasn’t that Yami was unused to staring, but he wasn’t dueling so he found it rather peculiar. 

Isono started to mutter into his communicator behind him. Yami did not turn to look. 

The duel ended and Kaiba came out. For the semi-finals. The _semi-finals—_ how long had he been dueling before Yami caught him? 

The moment he stepped out he looked straight at Yami. Yami crossed his arms and glared at him. If Kaiba thought that he could chase Yami out now he had another thing coming. 

He snorted to hide a tiny smile, then stepped into the ring. 

The crowd cheered. Yami smirked. Kaiba, perhaps more than any other duelist he knew, could put on a _show_ when he duelled. Kaiba’s duels were always worth watching. 

It was unfortunate the duel was only three turns before Kaiba utterly destroyed him. Yami tried not to think about the itch in his fingers when he saw Kaiba’s combos. His deck was not the same one he used to duel Yami, he could tell that Kaiba had thought through more and more of it. 

_Gods,_ Yami wanted to duel him. 

When he stepped down from the arena, he looked up at Yami again. Neither of them could conceal their matching smirks. 

Yami would learn later that this moment was filmed and discussed widely on various internet websites. He could not tell from Mokuba if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Perhaps Mokuba had not yet decided yet. 

It was only later that the two of them would have their fight about whether or not Yami should show up to the Kaiba Dome to watch him duel. 

“I didn’t tell you about it, because you _weren’t invited!”_

“You don’t get to _not invite me_ to your duels! That is not acceptable!” 

Kaiba’s shoulders were climbing up his neck, his teeth were bared. “Just your _presence_ there changed everything! Don’t you get it, you can’t just go wherever you want! You are the _greatest duelist of your time! You are my rival!_ You can’t just—“ 

“I get to watch you! I get to go to those tournaments! You are _my rival!_ ” 

They panted, still angry, neither of them conceding an inch. 

Suddenly, Kaiba sunk to his knees, tension leaving his body in a rush. 

“Kaiba?” 

“Just, just go,” he rasped out. “I can’t deal with this right now.” 

Yami’s eyes narrowed. 

“We are not done,” he said. Then he walked out.

—

While he stayed at Kaiba’s Manor Yami did take his security detail to Kame Game Shop. The men that Kaiba assigned to him changed all the time. Kaiba liked to pretend it didn’t matter but Mokuba and Kaiba always had the same people, so Yami was sure there was a good reason. 

The game shop was the sort of place where time seemed to stand still. At the door there was the same bell that chimed lightly. The counter was still well kept, with the rarest duel monsters cards displayed in the glass case. The shelves were still well stocked and their were posters of tournaments on the wall—

Yami stopped. Stared.

“Ah! Welcome!” He heard Yuugi’s grandfather call out before he came out to the counter. Yami heard him but all of his attention was focused on the sight in front of him. 

“Welcome back, Yami.” 

Yami swallowed and looked away. The muted rage that had been following him since that phone call with Yuugi abruptly vanished at the sight of Grandpa’s face. 

“I’m back,” he said.

Grandpa stepped out from behind the counter and folded Yami into a hug. For all his wives and attendants Yami hardly ever experienced a hug. He was quite bad at it. He didn’t usually know the right place to put his arms, it was different for everyone, and he was always too stiff. 

Grandpa didn’t seem to care at all. 

When they let go, Yami found himself drawn back to the poster. He _had_ seen it before. But something about that poster, it made his heart _ache._

“Ah, that,” Grandpa said with his indulgent smile. “That terrible boy sends us your posters. Especially the big wins.” 

Ah, that was it. The poster was from Battle City. It was one of the most exciting tournaments Yami had been a part of. While the first day—the preliminaries—happened in Domino City, the finals were held in Tokyo. The publicity from the tournament brought a lot of new customers to Kame Game Shop. Yami imagined Grandpa enjoyed having the posters up so he could tell his customers how he taught Yami everything he knew about being a duelist. 

“Do you want me to sign it?” Yami cocked a hip and smiled. 

Grandpa laughed and laughed then told him to write, ‘to my mentor, the man who taught me everything I know.” 

—

Yuugi ended up finding Yami working behind the counter when he came back from class. 

Yuugi was attending Domino’s local university part-time. Even without his Grandpa’s unusual connections Yuugi had a natural openness to new experiences and a drive to learn more. 

Despite meeting him before he became Yami, Yuugi has never been afraid of him. Even after their last conversation, Yami would admit he was more nervous about talking to Yuugi than Yuugi would be about talking to him. 

“Oh! You came back!” He smiled like Yami had never snapped at him at all. 

“Yuugi, I’m—“ 

“You signed Grandpa's poster!” He continued. “You know he’s been bragging about you since that first tournament in Tokyo.” 

“Yuugi…” he waited. Yuugi looked at him as if nothing had ever happened. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—“

“No,” Yami said. “No. It’s my fault.” 

Yami disagreed with his face, but said nothing. 

“I know that you’re not used to all of this,” Yuugi said. “It hasn’t actually been that long since you came to Japan—no wait, hear me out. A year isn’t actually a long time. You spent _most of your life_ down there. It’s only natural that there are things you want to learn about and things that you want to try.” 

He shifted his weight. “In all honesty, it’s Kaiba-kun digging around that makes me more nervous. I didn’t think he would get so attached to you. No, don’t give me that look. Kaiba-kun is totally attached to you. I’ve never seen him talk to anyone the way he talks to you.” 

“In any case, you learning about stuff and figuring stuff out is _your journey_. I don’t really have the right to say anything about it.”

“Yuugi…”

“I honestly don’t think learning about cults will help you understand where you came from, but I get it.” 

Yami’s eyes found the floor. 

“I don’t want you to think, even for a moment that you come from a cult.” He looked at Yami with such intensity, Yami had to meet his gaze. “Did Kaiba tell you about cults?” 

Yami looked away. 

Yuugi made an aborted sound. He took a breath then put his hands on Yami’s upper arms. “Look Kaiba-kun has his own way of doing things. He likes to be totally in control of stuff.” He looked mischievously at Yami. “And that’s usually _your_ way of doing things too so you should understand.”

Yami gulped.

“You might not know everything about the modern world yet, but you are allowed to take thinigs at your own pace.” 

Yami blinked at him.

“It’s like a plant,” Yuugi said. “You have to be patient and let yourself grow a little everyday.” 

Yami laughed, “a plant huh?” 

He looked at Yuugi, his own smile mischievous. “You suggest a King such as myself is akin to a plant?” 

“Ah!” Yuugi flailed, his face turned bright red. “Well, I meant—it’s okay to like go at your own pace and not Kaiba-kun’s—“

Yami’s laugh followed Yuugi the rest of the night.

—

Yami looked for Kaiba much later, after his daily fight with the shower. It was perhaps ill-preparation to finish a fight with Seto Kaiba in pajamas, but Yami would not wait any longer. 

Kaiba’s room wasn’t all that different from his own. There was more blue and white for sure. When Kaiba opened the door, the first thing Yami noticed were the bags dark under his eyes. 

“Yami,” he sighed. He didn’t sound surprised. When he reached up to rub his face with a hand Yami changed his strategy. 

“Let me in,” he insisted and started to nudge past Kaiba. Kaiba was leaning on the door frame so it took some strength. 

“Now?”

“Now,” Yami insisted firmly. He pushed his way inside and leaned up against the couch when he noticed Kaiba made no effort to leave the open door. 

“You’re exhausted.” 

Kaiba flinched. 

“And you’re keeping things from me.” 

His lips thinned into a hard line and he kept his eyes fixed on the ground. 

Yami sighed. “Kaiba what is going on?” 

“Isn’t it obvious?” He spat. “Seto Kaiba being forced to compete in a _regional tournament._ How pathetic?” 

“Pathetic?” 

“Obviously,” he crossed his arms. “Isn’t that why you came to the tournament? The mighty Seto Kaiba fallen to the level of a _regional tournament.”_

Yami tried very hard not to laugh. Kaiba caught him anyway. 

“ _WHAT?!”_ Kaiba hissed. His eyes narrowed into slits. 

“You were worried about that?” Yami couldn’t stifle his laughter anymore. “Kaiba, I wasn’t thinking that at all.” 

Kaiba ‘humphed’ and turned away. 

“I really wasn’t,” Yami said. “If anything I was the jealous one.” 

Kaiba’s face went slack and his arms dropped down to his sides. 

“ _I’m_ not allowed to duel, but _you_ are. It’s hardly fair.” 

Yami watched his face turn bright red. He didn’t know why but he liked it when Kaiba dropped his guard around him, a lot. 

“And there is nothing pathetic about proving yourself a worthy duelist.” 

Kaiba’s blush didn’t go away. 

“And,” Yami kept going. “There’s nothing wrong with watching your journey.” 

“Yami,” he snarled, still red-faced. “That’s not—“

He let out a long sigh. “Whatever. I don’t care anymore.” 


	7. Waiting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yami couldn’t remember the last time he stood in line.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting a little serious, but hopefully not too much. Hope you like it!

Standing in line

There was supposed to be this excellent meat pastry stand that Yuugi claimed was just as good as ta’ameya in Domino’s arcade street. 

It was a weekday so the shops weren’t bustling, but they were still cluttered with students milling around with their friends and people doing the last minute shopping before dinner. With all the small shops Yami should not have been surprised at the amount of people, but he hadn’t been to Domino’s arcade street in over nine months. Kaiba despised the arcade, so he had only ever gone with Yuugi. 

He should not have been surprised about the line extending out from the stall, crossing the street, and curling around the corner. 

Yami couldn’t remember the last time he stood in line. 

Yami pulled out his phone to text his current security detail. A very nice man named Youichi-san. Originally this was supposed to be a quick stop before they went back to the Kaiba Mansion.

It was the one day that Kaiba had off between the regional and prefectural tournament and he was using it to attend to Kaiba Corporation matters. Apparently something serious came up with the PR department. Some about the internet taking pictures and the bird square. Yami didn’t quite understand why this was a problem, but the bird-tweets he was supposed to do still didn’t make sense to him. 

Seto Kaiba had given him a Kaiba-phone at the beginning of the year and told him once that he could duel on it, but Yami still didn’t know what to press. This phone didn’t have any buttons after all. 

Mokuba said it would open when it looked at his face but—

“Oh! Yuugi!” A hand came down on his shoulder and jerked him back. A sound flew out of Yami’s mouth before he could contain it. Then he was looking at a blonde head of hair and a large smile. 

“You told me you were working at the Game Shop today! Not comin’ back here. The box you bought last time for that Professor guy wasn’t enough?” 

_Box? Professor?_

“Who?” 

“ _Step back!”_ Youichi-san stepped forward and pushed the man away. 

“What the—“ he snarled. For a second Yami wondered why Yuugi was friends with someone so pushy. 

“Whaddaraya doing to my _friend?!”_

Ah, that made more sense. 

“Jounouchi!” Someone came up behind him and smacked him hard. “Pay attention!” 

A woman ran up to them. She looked directly at Yami. “I’m so sorry. You look like one of our friends and—“

“What are you talking about?!” The two men were pushing at each other. “Do you honestly think anyone else has that crazy hair!” 

“Shut up Jounouchi!” 

“Use your eyes, stupid!” 

“I’m—“

“Are you alright, Yami-sama?” Youichi-san looked panicked. “Did he hurt you?” 

“Eh? What?” 

“What’s going on?” 

People were starting to whisper and point and _stare._ It was like at the Kaiba Dome again. But there were no duels here. There was no reason to stare. 

For a moment the shadows of the afternoon elongated and Yami was—he wasn’t—

Their eyes were a weight pulling him back into the darkness to bleed again and again. 

The sound of a door shutting. 

Again. 

A hand on the back of his neck. 

_Go back._

The weight of gold on every limb of his body.

Again. 

A candle burning out. 

_Go back._

“ _I have to…”_

Another hand on his shoulder. Not pulling, or pushing, just holding. 

“Yami!” Yuugi was _there._ Suddenly just like that day. 

“Yami.” His face was pale. He was so afraid the hand that held his was trembling. “Are you okay?” 

“Of course,” he blinked. “Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“You were—it was just like—“ Yuugi ducked his head, “don’t _do that_ again.” 

He nodded, grateful when Yuugi stopped trembling. 

The hand on his shoulder squeezed. He looked, he’d thought it was Yuugi’s but—

“Kaiba?” 

His face was stiff and his eyes were very, very blue. The hand on his shoulder tightened to the point of pain. Atem leaned into it. 

“That was YOUR FAULT!” The woman yelled. Her friend punched the blonde man. He _flew._

The eyes on him were gone. Well, most eyes. 

Yami looked back up at Kaiba who hadn’t stopped watching him. 

“Stay here,” he squeezed his shoulder once, then disappeared. 

Yuugi still held his hands while he turned to look at those people. 

“Those are your friends?” he asked softly. 

Yuugi turned, his face red. “Yes. They are. I mean, I didn’t—I didn’t tell them about you.” 

He looked down. “That was my fault, sorry.” 

Yami cocked his head. “Why is that _your_ fault?” 

“I should have—I’m not ashamed of you or anything. I—they don’t duel so, we just never… They don’t recognize you.” 

Yami touched his shoulder. “I’m not mad, Yuugi.” 

As they spoke the weight of the attention from the spectacle wavered and lifted. Breath came easier. 

“I’m still. I’m still sorry.” 

Yami could see the weight of his insecurity sitting heavy on his shoulders. 

“I wish you wouldn’t be,” was all he could manage. 

“Yami-sama,” Youichi-san touched his elbow. “We really should go.” 

“But—“ Yami looked to where Yuugi’s friends were still wrestling with each other. “And—“

“Let’s go.” Kaiba was back.

Yuugi had turned to untangle his friends. A nostalgic feeling crept over him. 

_You are not a part of this world,_ his mind reminded him. _This is not for you._

Then where was it? If it wasn’t Egypt, and it wasn’t here, where was the place he belonged? 

A hand, warm between his shoulders. Then a box warm between his hands. 

“That thing you wanted,” Kaiba said, he kept his face turned away. 

Yami looked at the box. The paper cardboard was white, there were oil stains on the side. Something about the sight of it made tears well up in his eyes. 

“Let’s go,” he said again. 

Yami didn’t trust his voice so he just nodded. 

When he finally took a bite of the pastry he laughed. 

It wasn’t like ta’ameya at all. 


	8. Learning New Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This made both Yami and Yuugi look over from where they had been staring deeply into each other’s eyes the way they always did when the saw each other. 
> 
> If Kaiba didn’t know, for a fact, that he was obsessed with the cheerleader and mildly addicted to porn, he would have reason to worry—
> 
> Well, no, not worry. He was Seto Kaiba. He had no reason to worry after all. And what would he even worry about? Nothing. That’s what. 

Visual kei 

Yuugi brought his friends to the Kaiba Manor not too long after they met at the arcade. 

His friends were people Yuugi had met at school. Yami had never been to Yuugi’s school, but when he came to the Palace Yuugi would tell him about “school.” What it was like, how it changed, and what it meant to him. Unlike Yami, Yuugi had to attend “classes” which were large groups of people in one room together. There were things called “clubs”” and “sports” and “festivals.” 

Even knowing what he did now, Yami has a hard time understanding what it would be like to be in school. 

“To think, I would end up inviting that loser dog and the friendship brigade here.” 

Yami looked up at him. _Loser dog? Friendship brigade?_

“Is there something wrong with friendship?” 

Mokuba laughed. Kaiba glared down at him form where he was pacing the floor. 

“Ugh, you’re going to join them aren’t you?” Kaiba covered his face with his eyes. “This is a mistake.” 

Yami turned more fully on the sofa. “Kaiba,” he waited until Kaiba looked at him again, “are we not friends?” 

This was usually the point where Mokuba filled in for his brother’s silence. Yami had witnessed more than once that when Kaiba was speechless he would get involved. This time he just smiled wider and watched Kaiba’s mouth struggle to make words. 

“Kaiba?” 

At that moment the doorbell rang.

—

Seto Kaiba was trying hard not to choke on his tongue. 

The loser dog and the friendship brigade (Mokuba was right, the more he said it, the more it sounded like a lame children’s anime) made themselves at home in the larger living room. 

Isono served tea and tried to hide his smile. Both he and Mokuba have been enjoying themselves too much. 

After Yami’s sudden appearance at the Domino Regional Tournament the PR department had been struggling to react to the ongoing and explosive popularity of Kaiba Corporation’s youngest CEO being “shipped” with the official duelist sponsored by the company. In the past six weeks Kaiba has learned more about the concept of shipping and fan service than he ever wanted to know. 

Yami likely hadn’t noticed but it had become a situation where people would point and take pictures out in public. It had only gotten worse when he attended the prefectural tournament. As the current champion there were always people who wanted to interview him. Yami seemed to just think they wanted to talk, he never looked at the camera, and didn’t care when he showed up on TV. Given Yami’s general lack of understanding about technology in general, Kaiba never knew what he was misunderstanding and what he did not care about. 

There was once where he looked straight at Kaiba while they were entering a dueling arena, the crowd chanting his name and asked, “how do they know who I am?” 

Kaiba had covered his face with his hand. 

Even that last time, on the arcade street, Kaiba didn’t know if Yami understood how terr— _concerning_ it was for his duelist to look, to look out of his mind with—

“You got some pretty sweet digs Kaiba!” The loser dog flopped onto the couch. Kaiba sighed. He supposed he should be grateful that he didn’t put his feet on the table. “To think there’d be a day a guy like me is at the Kaiba Mansion!” 

He laughed.

“It’s the Kaiba Manor, dude,” Mokuba said, half-laughing. He’d always found the mutt funny. 

“Trash leaves the Manor all the time,” Kaiba added with a smirk. 

Jounouchi snarled, the Friendship Brigade (at least the ones paying attention) laughed. 

This made both Yami and Yuugi look over from where they had been staring deeply into each other’s eyes the way they always did when the saw each other. 

If Kaiba didn’t know, for a fact, that he was obsessed with the cheerleader and mildly addicted to porn, he would have reason to worry—

Well, no, not _worry._ He was Seto Kaiba. He had no reason to _worry_ after all. And what would he even worry about? Nothing. That’s what. 

The introductions were predictably ridiculous. Kaiba felt it was important to interrupt for clarification purposes. 

“He’s a mutt.” 

“You know what _rich boy!”_ Jounouchi stood up, fist raised like he intended to fight. It was likely that he thought Kaiba had been raised a pampered child. As if he hadn’t raised himself up from the gutters into the house of the wealthiest man in Domino and taken _everything he had._

But the mutt didn’t often use his brain. 

“Do you all know each other?” Yami’s questions abruptly reminded Kaiba that he had no context for this. 

“We all went to school together!” Yuugi smiled brightly at him. 

For whatever reason Yami deflated. “Oh,” he said. “You’re all friends.” 

Kaiba couldn’t help it. He made a disgusted noise. “ _Friends?_ With these losers. Don’t make me laugh.”

Yami looked up at him. “I wouldn’t invite people here if they weren’t suitably checked,” Kaiba looked at Jounouchi. “Or completely useless.” 

“YOU KNOW WHAT RICHIE RICH—“

The Friendship Brigade laughed. Even the cheerleader, who liked to look disgruntled on principle, didn’t bother to hide her smile. 

Yami’s shoulders were still curled, but the deflated look in his eye was disappearing. 

“Why are you guys _laughing?!”_

“You are pretty useless,” Honda avoided his headlock with grace that came from years of practice. 

Jounouchi caught a breath. “Anyway, Rich boy doesn’t _have_ any friends.” 

Kaiba crossed his arms and sat back. 

Yuugi did not share his silence. “Yami is his friend!” 

Kaiba pursed his lips, but didn’t contradict him. 

Then he turned to Yami. “Aren’t we all here so you can become friends too?” 

Yami smiled, something quiet and fragile. Kaiba had to lean forward. He had never seen that look on his face before. 

“So anyway, you and Yuugi have known each other since you were kids?” 

Yami visibly brightened and started talking. Kaiba was sure that he and Yuugi had come up with some kind of backstory to cover for him. It would be interesting to see if either of them would say something new. 

“Yes!” He said. “I have known Yuugi a long time.” 

Kaiba tried to think about what he knew of Yuugi. His first trip to Egypt was—

“So has he always been all—visual kei?” Honda gestured, rudely, at Yami. 

At this more than one person blinked. 

“Visual,” Yuugi said slowly. 

“—kei?” Yami finished. 

This moment made the two of them look like perfect twins. 

The cheerleader smacked Honda over the head. “That’s _not_ what visual kei is, you _moron.”_

“What is visual kei?” Yami interrupted the oncoming fight and Kaiba wondered exactly where he got his fashion sense from. 

It was at that point that someone’s phone was paired with the TV and some truly awful music blared out from his high tech speaker set. 

Despite the incoming headache, Kaiba would admit that aesthetically he could see where Yami might find inspiration for future looks. 

Yami watched the music video with more intensity than Kaiba expected. For a moment, Kaiba could see every inch of him from an outsider’s perspective. The painstakingly applied eyeliner, the two belts, tight jeans, armbands—the choker snug around his neck. It was subtle but today’s was a navy blue. There was the belt buckle in the front that Kaiba assumed was more for show than an actual clasp. He couldn’t say for sure since he had never seen Yami take it off. 

“See!” Honda stood up. “It’s not _that_ different from what he wears.” 

There were a couple of “hmmms” but the cheerleader scoffed. “Visual kei isn’t just what you _wear._ It’s a whole subculture. Don’t just simplify it because you don’t know anything.” 

“How would _you_ know?” 

“Well that’s—“

Jounouchi squinted at the screen. “He doesn’t dress _that_ girly either. And he’s not like g—“

“Guh?” 

Without looking, the cheerleader elbowed Jounouchi hard enough to double him over coughing. 

Kaiba glares at the mutt where he still coughed to catch his breath. Even Yuugi looked embarrassed on his behalf. The rest of them just held their faces in their hands. 

Yami kept looking confused and patted that mutt’s back awkwardly. “Are you okay?” 

“He’s an idiot.” 

“An idiot.” 

“ _Hey!”_

“In any case,” Mazaki put her hands on her hips. “We want to know more about you.” 

“Me?” 

She smiled. “Yes, you. So, Yuugi says you’re not from Japan. Where are you from?” 

Kaiba was at the edge of his seat. Yami smiled, that foxy smiled he always had when he had cornered his opponent. “It’s a secret.” 

She blushed. 

“I can tell you that Yuugi is one of the best duelists I know.” 

Kaiba scoffed. Disappointed in more than one way. 

“Duelist?” They wore matching expressions of bewilderment. Kaiba had no idea how Yuugi spent time around these nobodies. “Like the card game?” 

Yami looked surprised for a moment before he wore his polite smile. “Exactly like that. You don’t duel?” 

“Ah, no. I want to be a dancer so…” 

“That doesn’t mean you can’t be a duelist. Anyone can learn to duel.” 

“ _Not_ everyone is good at it,” Kaiba reminded him. Yami’s mouth curled up at the edges but otherwise he made no comment. 

“Yeah, yeah rich boy. We _got_ it. You’re the best duelist ever. Blah, blah, blah,” the mutt said. 

At this Yami raised one perfectly manicured eyebrow. Kaiba wants to punch the mutt in the face, desperately. 

“Obviously, I’m not.” He looked at Yami. “But I will eventually defeat you and reclaim my rightful place.” 

Yami held his gaze for a long moment. He looked at Kaiba like he knew, no like he _expected_ Kaiba would rise to the challenge. It only made Kaiba sit taller. 

“Wait,” the mutt panicked. “ _You_ beat Kaiba?” 

“I did.” He leaned back in his seat. “Kaiba is an excellent duelist. He is a man worthy of being my rival.” 

Jounouchi looked inordinately pleased. “So you’re, like, _amazing.”_

Yami looked utterly shocked for a moment, then laughed. “You could get good too.” 

Both Kaiba and Jounouchi couldn’t contain the disbelief on their faces. “ _What?”_

Yami winked— _winked—_ then said, “I have a feeling you would be a great duelist.” 

Kaiba scoffed. But that was all they needed to hear to get into it. 

It wasn’t until they all left that the conversation turned back to something interesting. 

“What were they talking about earlier?” Yami asked.

Kaiba didn’t even blink, he was used to Yami asking him questions about conversations long past. 

“What were you so upset about earlier?” 

The two of them stare each other down. Kaiba enjoyed the shiver of delight that came with his impressive glare. 

“I’ve never gone to school,” he finally said. 

Kaiba blinked, then put it together. “You’re _jealous?”_

At Yami’s vulnerable look he laughed. “You’re jealous of that _shithole?”_

Kaiba ran a hand through his hair. “God, what bullshit. There was nothing that was a bigger waste of my time than Domino Public High School.” 

“Does that mean I don’t have to go anymore?” Mokuba yelled from another room, still listening as always. 

“Keep dreaming.” 

Mokuba made a disappointed noise.

Yami looked from the doorway to Kaiba a couple of times. “You know, I grew up playing games most of the day. I would play and play until the men who came to beat me gave up and left.” 

A part, a rather small part, of Kaiba’s brain was filing that away, the rest of it was _painfully jealous._

Yami quirked an eyebrow at him as if he knew exactly what Kaiba was thinking. “It bored me to death most days. I would have rather gone to school.” 

“One man’s trash is another man’s treasure,” Kaiba eventually said and hated himself for it. Trash was trash. But in this case, the point had value. 

“They were talking about the connection between gay men and men who wear women’s clothing.” 

“Gay men?” 

“Men who fuck other men.” 

Yami’s eyes widened. He hadn’t moved, but he looked as though Kaiba had pushed him down on his heels. “Men who...with other men?” 

He blinked at Kaiba. He didn’t say anything for a long time. “That’s… you can?” 

There was a painfully high note to the questions that made Kaiba narrow his eyes. After having spent a disgusting amount of time with the PR department about his relationship with this exact man, he felt as though the topic was overdone. Not for Yami, it seemed. 

“Yes.” 

“How?” 

“Up the ass.” 

“ _Up the—“_ If Yami were anyone else, the mutt perhaps, he would probably be covering his own. “That sounds…” 

“Painful?” Kaiba shrugged. “Apparently it’s good enough to do more than once.” 

“Have you—“

Kaiba glared at him. _That_ was a conversation he was not willing to have. Especially not with his _younger brother_ listening. 

Yami was still thinking. “Is it required for men to wear women’s clothing if—“

“No.” 

“They why—“

“People are stupid.” 

“O-oh.” 

“If you want to know more, talk to someone else,” Kaiba said. Then his eyes narrowed. “Perhaps _not_ Mokuba.” 

He walked away and left Yami alone with his thoughts. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are going to start getting interesting from here on out. Hope you are here for it. 
> 
> Visual kei is not really mentioned, it’s more peripheral, but it’s a vehicle to get into other stuff.


	9. Is this gay?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The notification came after the Duel Disk design had been finalized. Kaiba had been working on the Duel Disk since he had first seen Yami duel (really that was their first duel). The stiff containment, the length of the arena between them, even the way the arena had held them both aloft, away from the fighting, rather than in the arena where they both belonged. It wasn’t until he dueled Yami that he realized the extent of the imperfection that he had foolishly ignored.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of suicide if that’s a trigger. Please take care of yourselves in this cold, cold time.

Blanket 

The notification came after the Duel Disk design had been finalized. Kaiba had been working on the Duel Disk since he had first seen Yami duel (really that was _their_ first duel). The stiff containment, the length of the arena between them, even the way the arena had held them both aloft, away from the fighting, rather than _in_ the arena where they both belonged. It wasn’t until he dueled Yami that he realized the extent of the imperfection that he had foolishly ignored. 

The development of the Duel Disk needed to account for both space and technology. The sensors for space needed to be precised in a way they had never been before, and durable, able to deal with outdoor elements, including the side-effects of the duel itself. Not to mention the holograms had to look good no matter the lightning or location. 

There were multiple adjustments that required changes to design. In many ways, Kaiba mused, this Duel Disk would immediately render the Duel Arena obselete. It would change the way tournaments were run and held. It would change the way duels were _watched._

Then he got the notification and Kaiba had to swallow bile back down his throat. 

He originally set up the notification to ensure none of them would try to profit shamelessly off of Kaiba Corporation—off of _them—_ any more than they already had. As if throwing theme in the orphanage wasn’t enough. Kaiba wouldn’t have been surprised if they had. 

Apparently his aunt had decided to fall into JR’s train tracks after her husband hung themselves in the house they bought on their long dead father’s life insurance money. 

Kaiba scrolled through the article with a lack of attention he didn’t feel. There wasn’t much to it really. Kaiba should not have been surprised. They were just another boring middle class family who hadn’t wanted to deal with two orphans. Kaiba shouldn’t make a big deal out of it. It shouldn’t be—

But the heavy blanket, the same one Kaiba felt when he found out his father would never come home, sat heavy on his shoulders. 

His fingers clenched into a fist so hard his nails bit blood out of his palms. 

_No,_ he thought with perfect clarity. _No._

Kaiba didn’t bother to save the article. He deleted the notification. It was easy to erase the evidence of everything. That was their old life, it had nothing to do with who he was now. With who _they_ were now. 

He went back to work. 

—

Kaiba went through the rest of his meetings with less sharps jabs about productivity or efficiency than usual, which made his employees even more careful around him. By the time his brother went home more than one employee had approached Mokuba about Kaiba’s silence. Some were terrified of being fired, other’s were terrified that he was so disappointed he didn’t have words. It only goes to show that people could get used to anything if they dealt with it long enough. 

Mokuba himself, had reservations about saying anything to his brother. The new Duel Disk design had finally been approved after all. The design team was, rightly so, terrified Kaiba would change everything. It wouldn’t be the first time his brother had done something like that, and it likely would not be the last. 

As he got older, it became clear to Mokuba that his brother’s skill set was not in business, but rather in design and developement of technology. His brother had a much better sense of showmanship than other men with that skillset so, in some ways, he made up for it. 

Mokuba always knew his brother was the best. But as he got older he realized his brother wasn’t the best at _everything._ Like making friends or cooperation. His brother was perhaps the worst example for those things. 

With one exception. 

“Mokuba?” Yami had a face towel wrapped around his neck. “Is it true that there are hats for showers?” 

_Hats for—_ Mokuba stifled a laughed with his hand. “You mean a shower cap?” 

“A shower hat! Yes!” 

“A shower _cap_ ,” he said again. “Gotcha. I’ll get you one.”

“Thank you.” 

He disappeared back into his room. Mokuba thought again that he was so weirdly clueless about the world. He didn’t believe that Yami was in a cult, the way his brother did. But it would make sense if he was. 

Perhaps the strangest part of him, was the more than anyone else he _got_ his brother. They were both obsessed with games. But he understood people, working with them and trusting them, than his brother did. And yet, he understood and trusted his brother. 

Mokuba had been in the world long enough to know that most people found his brother unpredictable and untrustworthy. They didn’t like his mood swings. They hated that he couldn’t work in a team. There were some people that had the nerve to tell him, that his brother’s only _human_ quality was how much he loved Mokuba. As if that was some kind of compliment! 

Yami wasn’t like that. Instead of looking at his quiet brother and writing it off as another mood swing, he frowned. Mokuba quietly excused himself from the table. If his brother needed privacy to be honest, Mokuba could give that to him. His brother hardly asked for anything anyway. 

—

Kaiba was busy measuring out coffee beans for his next cup of coffee when Yami ambushed him. 

“What happened?” 

Kaiba blinked. He realized Mokuba must have said something to him. 

“What did Mokuba tell you?” 

Yami had the gall to look surprised, like it took a genius to figure out Mokuba had said something about his “mood.” 

“That he would find me a shower hat?” Yami said nonsensically.

“What?” Kaiba squinted. Talking was getting difficult. A headache was certainly coming back to bite him in the ass. “What the hell are you talking about?” 

“You asked what Mokuba said. Now stop avoiding the question. What happened?” 

Kaiba’s brain had to turn that over more than once. There was an ache in his lower back that kept demanding he lie the fuck down. The coffee beans were sitting in the grinder and Kaiba just couldn’t get himself to push the damned button. 

“I don’t—“ he pressed a hand to his face. “Mokuba didn’t send you?” 

“Send me for what?” Yami asked blankly.

A long sigh escaped Kaiba without his permission. He felt the air leaving him, deflating him instantly. 

“Whatever,” he said and gave up on the coffee. “Just—not here.” 

Kaiba gestured and Yami followed him into the blissful dark of his room. 

Once he closed the door Kaiba felt Yami move closer to him. As if he was afraid to lose him in the small space. 

He shouldn’t—especially in front of his _rival_ —but his back _ached_ and his eyes were so heavy. The last villain of his old life was dead. 

Kaiba felt like a sail without wind. No matter how nice the breeze, it couldn’t move a ship. 

Then there were hands, gently carding through his hair. It was a nostalgic feeling, something only his mother had done. 

“Sleep,” a gentle voice, from above him—above him? When had he lay down?—and those hands kept stroking. “Sleep.” 

Kaiba shut his eyes and did as he was told. 

—

Yami pulled the blanket out from under Kaiba’s prone body slowly. He was pretty sure Kaiba was a light sleeper, but even with Yami gently displacing his weight, he didn’t stir. 

When he finally covered Kaiba with the blanket, he made a small sound. Something in Yami’s chest squeezed tight. 

Yami was more familiar with the dark than anyone he knew. Even here, perhaps _especially_ here, it made his hands shake. 

He leaned down to touch Kaiba’s socked feet and pulled the edge of the blanket to cover them. He tucked the edges underneath Kaiba’s body. It was these details, the small things about caring for another person that were perhaps the hardest to learn, and the most fulfilling challenge of his “modern” life. 

Kaiba made small sounds in his sleep. Yami grew up—was _born_ really—in the kind of darkness that was silent. The kind of silence that made human sounds strange and unwelcome. 

The dark of Kaiba’s room was different. There was the whirr of a muffled fan. The sounds from the hallway. Even Yami’s own breath mixing with the sounds of Kaiba’s. 

Fear, Yami knew, was something to chase and wait out. Nothing brought dread so keenly to the surface like stale fear. So Yami sat in the dark and quiet. When the fear finally receded, he lay down and pressed his face into Kaiba’s warm back. 

—

Kaiba woke with certainty. 

_It’s past dinner time._

He checked the clock. Yes. Dinner was long over. There would likely be something easy to reheat in the kitchenette—

A groan behind him made Kaiba stiffen. There was the shift of a _body_ behind his. 

“Kaiba,” a voice croaked. 

No, not just a voice. _Yami._

“You fell asleep.” It came out an accusation. Kaiba winced. 

“So did you,” his voice was warm, like he was smiling. Kaiba suddenly wanted to turn around to see his face. 

“You’re very warm,” he continued. Kaiba turned and clicked on the light behind Yami. 

It wasn’t until the light came on, struck the room in shadow, that they both realized how close their faces actually were. 

Yami looked at him with wide eyes. Kaiba couldn’t look away. 

“Kaiba,” his voice dropped to a whisper. “Is this gay?” 

In another circumstance, Kaiba would have laughed. 

“Probably,” he whispered back. 

They were so close their lips started brushing each other’s, a ghost of a kiss. 

“I think I like it,” he kept talking. Little shudders of sensation came at each word.

Kaiba felt his own breath become jagged. “Yeah,” was all he could say back. 

“Can I come closer?” He asked stupidly, like he wasn’t already doing it. 

Seto Kaiba was many things. Patient was not one of them. He grasped the back of Yami’s head and pulled across that last small space between them. 

For all the teasing, maybe _because_ of it, damn him, the kiss was explosive. Kaiba felt it—just pressure against his lips, again and again and again, like waves drowning him. 

They kept going. Kaiba pushed Yami down into the mattress. Pushing for more and _more and—_

Yami’s hand found his hair. He angled them both deeper into the kiss. Betraying his experience. 

Kaiba didn’t have a chance to think about it. His other, more mischievous hand, found Kaiba’s lower back. It started to tingle. Kaiba tried to angle himself closer, grasp his body tighter, but that infernal blanks was bunched between them, leaving Kaiba’s back open to Yami’s touch and holding his hand and most of him hostage. He hand only one hand free to use. 

Damned blanket. 

Then Yami started to lick and suck, pulling Kaiba’s attention back onto him fully and completely. This was a battle he could participate in. 

Kaiba learned a couple of embarrassing things about himself in the next few moments. One, when Yami sucked at his lips, his hips would jerk ridiculously. Two, when Yami sucked on his tongue, Kaiba would whimper. 

A few rooms away, something dropped. The two of them jerked away from each other. They both panted like men running for their lives. 

After a long moment staring into each other’s eyes, they both flop onto their backs. 

“We should eat.”

“Mm,” Yami agreed. 

Kaiba swallowed. His lips still tingled. He was disappointed at how badly he wanted to do it again. 

_You’re not a teenager anymore,_ Kaiba reminded himself. _Act like a goddamned adult._

He sat up, fully intending to get out of bed (after taking a _nap,_ like a child), when Yami’s hand caught his shoulder. 

“One more,” he said before Kaiba could protest and he pressed thier lips together. 

It took longer than Kaiba thought for the two of them to actually get out of bed. 


End file.
